


The Heist

by FlufferNutterButter



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Heiststuck, Humanstuck, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 09:33:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1423468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlufferNutterButter/pseuds/FlufferNutterButter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Yes, I’ll admit, I’ve been working with each of you without telling the others. It is through this, as well as extensive research into each of your alibis for every occasion, that I have come to a conclusion.” She picked up a file on her table. “None of you are behind the thefts.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heist

The early-morning sun did nothing to ease the cold bite of late-winter wind. The populace of the city who did not have taxing jobs was shut inside, in their warm homes, probably enjoying warm beds and warm breakfasts and relaxing. Despite the cold, it was a beautiful day; the sun that failed to warm did not fail to set the city in the brightest, most beautiful light it could. One could really appreciate that sort of view from their windows.

But not her. Her windows were drawn closed. She was not at home, but was sitting at her desk, in a building where the heating didn’t quite work like everyone wanted it to, where the walls were a cold and unfeeling, immovable brick.

She sipped at some miserable coffee. It was from the breakroom; she wouldn’t be drinking this horrific mixture if it weren’t too cold to go down the street to a far better place to actually get a cup of straight black coffee. But she tolerated it, grimacing as she downed the last remaining dregs like a shot of some hard-ass liquor. She hated coffee.

What she wouldn’t give to have some hot chocolate and a donut just then.

And then, she decided, _Screw it. I can have a hot chocolate and a donut_.

So she stood and headed for the door of her office, preparing to go outside, tell her coworkers/underlings that she was going, and then grab her coat. It was ten minutes, tops. They wouldn’t need her for ten minutes.

But when she opened her door, she came face-to-neck area with a very, very unhappy client. Latula Pyrope looked up into the cold, violet eyes of Cronus Ampora, took a deep breath, and frowned as her dreams of sugary goodness spiraled down the drain. She held open the door and motioned for him to enter.

“Come inside, Mr. Ampora,” she said lethargically. Her client didn’t need to be told twice.

He waited until the door was shut behind him to turn and begin his tirade. “Happened again, Pyrope! I thought you were on this!”

“I’m trying, Mr. Ampora. I can say I’m  a damn sight farther into unravelling this mystery than your former investigator, so calm down.”

“Yeah?” Cronus followed Latula to her desk, and when she sat down, he slammed his hands down, leaning over the object. “How many more is it going to be, then? Huh?”

“Look, without-” The door suddenly clicked again, opening. Both people turned.

“Oh, no. No, no no. No. You’re working with _him_ , too?” Cronus gestured angrily to Kurloz Makara. Latula sighed. This day was coming, she had known.

Kurloz strode over to Cronus and grabbed him by the lapel of his designer suit, glaring silently at the shorter man. But then, he shrugged, releasing his captive, and took a seat in a chair at the back of the office, long gangly limbs making him dwarf the furniture. Cronus looked slightly shaken from his near-manhandling, but before he could say anything else, a voice cut him off. “Clam down, Cro. We could hear ya all the dam way down the hall.”

In strode the one and only Meenah Peixes, done up in a short black dress, fuchsia jacket, and fuchsia pumps. She sneered at Cronus. “I’m gonna bet that Pyrope there’s got somefin interestin’ for all of us if you’ll just pipe the fuck down.”

“That’s right. Thanks, Meenah.” The two girls had always been more agreeable with each other, ever since Meenah came to Latula, and so they were on a first-name basis. “Yes, I’ll admit, I’ve been working with each of you without telling the others. It is through this, as well as extensive research into each of your alibis for every occasion, that I have come to a conclusion.” She picked up a file on her table. “None of you are behind the thefts.”

Cronus looked angry. “How do you know? How do you know they’re not plotting against me?”

Latula bowed her head slightly, looking over her glasses. “Mr. Ampora, what did I literally just say.”

Cronus just turned away, grumbling.

“I planned,” Latula began again, “To tell each of you this separately, and then invite you all here as one to explain my finds, but since you’re all already here, I’ll just skip to the second part of the plan.” She opened the file, pulling out some papers. “This is it. Whoever’s behind the thefts, they work in a group. My guess is either three or four people…”

~~~

At the desk of a museum for historic artifacts, a museum owned and run by Subjugglators, Inc., the security guard looked up when a polite, soft voice spoke.

“Hello. I look for… lavatory?” The woman stumbled over the last word, looking sweet and confused. “On first floor is… outside of order.” She leaned on the desk, causing her cleavage to be pushed up, very much in view through her top.

“Oh, uh, yes,” the security guard stuttered, “Right away, just follow me.” He stood and turned, and when he did, Damara Megido bent over and slid a very, very tiny flashdrive into the computer. She placed her purse atop the counter and followed the security guard.

When they got to the main elevator to go to the second floor, Damara faked shock. “Oh! Purse. I left back there.” She pointed, and then hurried along as best she could in a short skirt and high heels, getting back to the security desk. She leaned over again, using the keyboard to select ‘Open’ for the flashdrive, picked up her purse, and pulled the drive out again. She then hurried back to the security guard. Her maneuver didn’t take any time at all.

In one of the gallery rooms, a boy received a text on his phone. He eagerly pulled out the device and started texting back, to the annoyance of the other people in the gallery. That didn’t stop him, though. And as soon as he was done typing his lengthy message, he pulled up a video feed.

On the screen, Mituna Captor could see that the security guard was back at his desk, unaware that his security systems were no longer working. Flipping through a few more screens showed the locations of the other security guards, and the location of the prize: a temporarily closed exhibit with some very, very expensive artifacts. Mituna watched as the guards made their rounds, establishing the pattern. When he got it down to a time, he sent out one last text message.

_G0 3:14_

The girl was already in place. She had dismantled the air vent cover and used a retractable stick with a rope ladder attached by extending the stick at the intersection of two vents, using it to hold the ladder in place. On her wrist, a small watch-type device displayed the message she had received and the current time. When her watch clicked over to 3:14, she pulled the vent cover.

Mituna was in the bathroom, his tablet in his hands. He watched from a closed stall, monitoring many video feeds at once, and entering code after code to bypass each security system as they fell apart and their contingencies were put into place. He quickly and precisely dismantled the entire system, which meant there was nothing more to do but wait as his cohort extracted the objects in question.

Years of acrobatics and training were in her bones and in her blood; she had no trouble getting out of the tight vent and getting to the floor quietly. Of course, the body suit helped, being as tight as it was. She smiled, feeling truly like Catwoman in the comics she read as a child. She then reached into the front of her suit, pulling from her bra a bunch of lockpick pins. She worked quickly, unlocking the case, taking the goods, and then locking it back. A thin silk bag was brought with her, and she put the things in the bag, carried them to the rope ladder, climbed back in the vent, pulled the ladder, and replaced the cover.

She slinked away through the vents, slowly as to not cause her new treasures to clang together. She looked at her watch; she had a new message.

_3:25 F0UR7H 57R337_

She followed a path she had memorized back to the second story ladies’ room. Peering through the vents there, she saw Damara Megido leaning idly against the wall in the closed large stall, a cute printed backpack by her side. Damara looked to the vents, and she almost lazily brought her thumb, index, and middle fingers together. After a moment, she made a fist. The girl popped the already-detached vent cover out, pushed the silk bag out into Damara’s waiting arms, and then climbed out herself and replaced the vent cover. Damara put the silk bag down and reached to her cohort, unzipping the suit and yanking a simple shift dress from the backpack. Meulin Leijon shimmied out of the catsuit and pulled the dress over her head, pulling on some sandals as well. The bag with the stolen goods was put into the backpack, and the two girls left.

Across the hall, the men’s room door opened, and out walked Mituna. He made a few gestures on the keyboard and walked with his friends into the most crowded room. He powered down the tablet, effectively shutting down and erasing the software that he had used, and discretely handed Damara back her cigarette case. With the security measures now back up and running, the fire alarm went off.

They were ushered with everyone else outside, and they walked a few blocks to Fourth Street, where a car sat parked at the curb, waiting.

When they got in, Rufioh Nitram shook his head. “I don’t know why you guys keep me around anymore.”

~~~

“Because the securities at each of your respective companies are so complex, there has to be at least two people, one to dismantle security, and the other to actually steal. But with this kind of operation, it’s hard to believe that there’s not at least one more person, a PR, if you will. Someone to be the one to actually make things happen, someone to be a distraction. Maybe there’s a getaway car, maybe not.” Latula finished explaining her reasoning.

“Makes sense.” Kurloz said. “But we don’t know who.”

“I’ve got a few profiles, actually. Based on physical requirements for some of the jobs, I’ve decided-” She was cut off by someone opening her door. Kankri Vantas poked his head in. “Miss Pyrope? We’ve got another one.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea when I'll update this.


End file.
